


I'm Not oK

by Kleptomaniac_Can_Opener



Category: Ultraverse (Malibu Comics)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Children In Adult Situations, Crushes, Dealing With Trauma, Developing Friendships, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kevin Learns About Kpop, M/M, Poor Life Choices, Puberty, growing up is hard to do
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28246671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kleptomaniac_Can_Opener/pseuds/Kleptomaniac_Can_Opener
Summary: He’s a teenager already having trouble navigating the adult world thanks to his ultra form. However, Kevin has better means of learning about adult stuff than his peers. If he can control his goo, anyway. Mark this to the list of Kevin’s bad ideas.
Relationships: Kevin Green | Prime/OMC





	I'm Not oK

**Author's Note:**

> I always thought it was a shame that the series didn't dive deeper into the psychology side for Kevin.

Kevin had been in his Prime form when it happened, and he had been too shocked to say no at the time.

He was thirteen, so he wasn’t a stranger to the infamous wet dreams that people his age had. Added to that was the fact that he kept somehow ending up in really adult situations that had nothing to do with being a superhero.

The young ultra had been confused and bewildered when the grateful woman he had rescued from a pissed off feral dog had him sit on a crate in the dark alley. And you know, he hadn’t realized that his pants were separate from his top before then either.

“Oh my, Prime, you don’t disappoint!”

Kevin was so glad no one had come to check on him at that moment. If Hardcase had seen what was going on, he would have dissolved right there and just let himself drown in his green goop. Prototype would had tease him forever, but Hardcase knew his true age. The man would have gone ballistic!

The brunet shook his head and tried for the gazillionth time to concentrate on his homework. His grades were dropping like rocks because he kept putting off his education for Ultraforce business (which was way more interesting, thank you very much), and his homeroom teacher had informed him he was in danger of being held back.

That would make Hardcase get on his case even more, possibly more than his mom already was. And his teachers. And his friends. …the few friends he still had—the whole two of them. The only person who gave him any space was his dad, and he wasn’t home as often as Kevin would like.

He sighed and thumped his head on his science book. His brain was too full of other things to concentrate. If everyone could just be like his father, he wouldn’t be so stressed out. His dad didn’t even know the full situation—the man had no clue that he was the hero Prime, the strongest ultra on the planet. His dad definitely suspected something since he kept shielding him from scrutiny, but… Why hadn’t his dad tried to talk to him? Was Kevin supposed to make the first move? Was that how that worked?

Kevin groaned his misery. Why did life have to be so complicated?

He started his ‘break’ timer then pulled out his phone to see what was happening on Instagram. A lot of it was the usual food shots and selfies, a few that he hit the Like on, then there was nothing but k-pop and other video links leading to bands of foreign pretty boys.

The brunet paused on a screenshot, frowning to himself. The (he double-checked the title) Japanese singer was really pretty. He was prettier than a lot of the girls he knew, including the lady who gave him his first blow job. The next video was a Chinese rocker that had the girls (and almost as many boys) going gaga over him.

This was starting to make him feel weird, and his cheeks felt warm.

Kevin got off of Instagram and switched to Twitter. He needed a rant thread about something stupid to make him stop feeling…whatever he was feeling. The boy wasn’t ready to identify why the pretty guys were making him squirm in his seat.

He was really getting into a hilarious rant written by someone who had less of a grasp on grammar and spelling than he did when his alarm told him it was time to study again. The ultra sighed and tapped the app off before getting up to refill his drink and grab a snack. He needed something to boost his brain and to distract him from not-school things.

“Kevin, are you alright? You look flushed, honey.” His mom was at the sink washing dishes, her blonde hair held back by simple butterfly clips to keep them away from her hazel eyes.  
“I’m fine, mom, it’s just all of the studying.” He pulled a bottle of Coca-Cola from the refrigerator.  
“I’m glad that you’re taking your schooling seriously, but don’t overdo it either, okay? You won’t do well if you get sick.”

Kevin nodded. “I know, don’t worry. I’m taking breaks and stuff.” He gave his mom a smile to assure her, and he was pretty sure it worked. At least mostly.

Things had been quiet for the last few weeks with only the occasional need for Prime to make an appearance. Ghoul thought that meant something big was going to go down soon, but until then he had school and other whatnot that thirteen-year-olds did.

Kevin rubbed his eyes while he waited for his hot pocket to finish cooking. Molten lava right in his mouth should wake him up to the world of science. Maybe some of the others would be interested in a study group if he offered pizza bagel bites.

“When’s dad coming home?”  
“He’ll be home around seven tonight,” his mom answered, then she sighed while wiping down a plate.

Kevin stopped asking questions. When his mom did dishes by hand instead of using the dishwasher, she was worrying over something. He took his coke and hot pocket back to his room.

Life was easier when he was twelve. Less cool and full of awesome ultra battles, but easier. There also hadn’t been anyone wanting him dead, or trying to steal his genetic information, or tricking him for nefarious purposes.

He wanted to be ten again. Ten was a great year.

When his father came home after dinner, Kevin was back to studying. This time he was on history, the civil war to be exact. He was dizzy from all of the dates and names he was supposed to remember. At least it kept him from thinking about blow jobs. These guys definitely weren’t getting any.

“Hey, sport. Mom said you wanted to talk.” His dad’s tired face was smiling, and his five o’clock shadow was visible on his square jaw.

Speaking of sports, he hadn’t gone to soccer club in a while. They were lax about attendance, but they weren’t that lax. He better make an appearance on Monday before the coach called his mom.

Kevin scratched his head, trying to hide that he was uncomfortable. It wasn’t working. “I didn’t really say that, but mom wasn’t wrong. I guess.” He spun his chair around when his dad moved to sit on his bed.  
“Is anything wrong?” the man asked.

The boy took in his parent’s features. His face was strong and defined like the comic book heroes he admired, but Kevin’s face was softer like his mother’s. He wasn’t great at science (his falling C- grade said that much) but he understood enough that it wasn’t likely he ever would look more like his dad. His jaw was tapered and his face slimmer. He had a better chance of looking like those boy band stars than he did Superman.

He sighed for what had to be the billionth time that day. “I don’t think I understand anything anymore,” Kevin complained with his face in his hands. His dad’s large, warm palm rested on his head, ruffling his short hair.  
“I know the feeling. Want to talk about anything in particular?”

What did he want to talk about? Kevin crossed his arms over his thighs and stared at his socked feet. He was going to have to throw this pair away soon, they were looking threadbare. “Will things, life, be easier when I’m grown up?”

The man leaned back. “Some things will be, yes, but it depends.” Kevin groaned. “Sorry, champ, that’s how it is. You’ll have more choices and freedom, but you’ll also have more responsibility. Better rewards come with harsher consequences.” The younger male mused on that for a moment, he already knew it was true from experience.  
“What if I’m not ready?” Kevin finally asked.  
“If it’s something you can avoid or put off, then you should. And if you can’t…” He waited for his son to meet his gaze. “If you have to do it, then I think you’ll find you’re more ready than you thought. You’re a good kid, Kevin, and if you do find you’re in a situation you’re not ready for, do what you reasonably can to get through it for the time being. Most things can be revisited later, don’t beat yourself up for what’s out of your control or for things you shouldn’t be expected to know how to handle. You’re only thirteen.”

Kevin swallowed. His dad definitely knew he was an ultra, he had to. If he asked right now he’d spill out the entire story, including the blow job. But he didn’t ask, and the boy didn’t push.

Kevin leaned back in his chair after his father left. He had always hated his ceiling, it was too white and too plain. His mom wouldn’t let him take a brush to it, though. Well, he did have all of the artistic talent of a toad.

Ruminating over his dad’s words, he could figure that the lady in the alley had been a ‘shouldn’t be expected to know how to handle’ situation, but how did someone learn to deal with that kind of thing? He doubted he’d run into much during the rest of middle school, so maybe in high school? But he didn’t have the privilege of waiting that long, these incidents were happening now because Prime was an adult.

Could he…could he practice? He had modified his Prime body before. What if he changed into some sort of practice body no one would recognize? Kevin stared at his phone that was still on the picture of a Korean boy band.

A body that would draw all sorts of attention to practice with.

On Monday, Kevin told his mother he would grab a burger meal for dinner because he was staying late for soccer club, then he was studying with a friend. After a couple hours of getting his butt handed to him at said club, he left to eat dinner then to find a private place to transform. He had always depended on his instincts (or his subconscious the other Ultraforce team members would say) on adapting his body when necessary, but seeing that had caused mixed results more than once… He really needed to practice doing this on purpose as much as he needed to practice being an adult.

One old gas station without cameras and a sleepy attendant later, and grabbing a plastic bag to barf in cause oh man the smell, he bolted the door and shoved his clothes into his book bag. Between studying sessions he had pulled up all sorts of guys that people called Adonis and words that made him blush, and he had made an album with the ones he thought were the most suited for his experiment. After skimming the pictures over one more time, he put his phone away and concentrated.

The young ultra gathered his primal energies together, felt them collating in his belly like always. He tried to focus his mind on the images of the chosen men, and he kept repeating the specific traits he was going for. He wasn’t sure if it was working, he didn’t usually think so much when becoming Prime, he just felt—he let his emotions do the steering. But that was part of his problem, and damn it he was going to fix himself the way he knew Hardcase wanted! The way he knew Hardcase was right about so he could be a real superhero instead of a super pain-in-the-ass!

The pressure in his gut peaked and the green goo shot from every pore of his stomach, cocooning him in stuffy, wet heat until it shaped and hardened into a new body.

Kevin swallowed, he was scared to open his eyes. It was his first time doing it this way, and he just knew he had screwed up. He slooooowly counted to ten then forced his eyes open.

Shit on a sandwich, was that really him? He looked like he had stepped right out of a boy band magazine. Okay, he was still muscled (he liked muscles, okay?) but it worked. He was shaped more like a souped-up Spider-Man than the most macho of macho Superman.

Most importantly, he was pretty. He wasn’t sure how he had managed it, but he went from his plain and ordinary face to what all those people online wrote bad prose about. Good job, subconscious. The brunet, now with blond highlights and gold-studded earrings, checked everything. Right number of fingers and toes, he had all of his teeth, his butt looked great in his new leather pants just like in all of those videos, and he had the normal number of abs under his black tank top. His shirt had a giant golden, metallic P with the smaller letters of ‘r-i-m-e’ vertically next to it. Crap. Bad job, subconscious, bad! “Why is the ‘i’ dotted with a heart? Ugh, too much energy just to fix that, I need to get going.”

Kevin trotted towards downtown in his gold metallic high-tops, the gold chain that was pretending to be a belt jiggling with every step. At least the sweatbands on his wrists were nice and quiet.

Everywhere he went, people snapped their necks to get a second look. The transformed teen was starting to become self-conscious. It was one thing for people to stare at Prime, he was a mountain of gigantic muscles wrapped in primary red and yellow. This new Prime was way shorter and skinnier. He still felt his primal power in the fiber of every cell, but it was different somehow. He didn’t know how to describe it. He also didn’t know how to describe the prolonged glances. It wasn’t like superhero Prime, who got batting eyelashes and smiles with lots of teeth; it was kind of like how people looked at food after missing lunch.

The ultra was relieved when he reached his destination: the town center, and the location of the largest greenspace their town had. No surprise that everyone from kids to the elderly gathered there to hang out on the regular. And with it being after nine, it was pretty much all adults ready to party.

Alright. He was here. Now to blend in.  
Like a real adult.

Kevin strolled towards the slushie stand to get a drink, he was parched after everything. (Here’s looking at you, White Cherry Coke.) He was still getting stares, but it was mixed with waves and smiles and those batting eyelashes. Okay. So far, so good. He got his drink, and the guy working the cart didn’t give him a second glance, so yay on that. Varied reactions were normal, right?

Tonight he was staying solo. He needed to get used to…this. All this.

“Hey there, hot stuff,” sang a lady who was already on her way to getting drunk. Kevin smiled and returned her finger wave.  
“Hey there back.”

Oh…oh no. His voice. Why the hell did he sound like he was from One Direction? He didn’t even use any of them for… Shit, they had been playing on the gas station’s overhead! He hadn’t given any thought to his voice, he had completely forgotten about that part. This was why he kept failing his history tests, he kept forgetting the details!

To Kevin’s relief, the lady tittered then joined the rest of her friends across the way. He was beginning to think he should cut his experiment short this time and get the heck home. Home sounded so safe and not-stressful right now. He gulped his slushie in an attempt to calm down and gave himself a headache for the effort.

A large arm threw itself around his shoulders, and it took everything in him not to punch the person through the nearest wall. “Eep!” Gross, did that squeak come out of his throat?  
“Hey, gorgeous, you here alone?”

No no no no no no no no! That could not be who he thought it was! But that accent was unmistakable.

Brown-hazel eyes turned to the man who had saddled up to him. Curly brown hair, dark skin, angled jaw, and black eyes. Yup, it was Prototype. Or rather Jimmy Ruiz since he was in civilian clothes, blue jeans and a red sleeveless shirt. Just kill him now. Why was Jimmy even here, in his hometown? Kevin bought himself a few precious seconds by taking a long sip of the last of his slushie. What did they always say in the comics?

Kevin threw on what he hoped was an interested smile. “Not anymore.” Jimmy laughed.  
“Oh, I like you. My name’s Jimmy.”

Fuck, he forgot about names.

“Oh, call me…” There was no way he could use his real one now, even though it’s a common one. What if Prototype told Hardcase that he met a guy wearing his now super obvious Prime shirt named Kevin? Suspicious much?  
He stole a page from a K-pop guy and tilted his head with a bright smile, or what he hoped was one, and he tossed up a hand with the only bit of sign language he still remembered from the third grade. “K.”  
“K, huh? That’s cute.”

Kevin could cry with the relief that his ruse was miraculously working.

“C’mon, K, I’ll buy you a beer.”  
“I’m twenty.”  
“Soda it is.” Kevin couldn’t help a small laugh. The situation was absurd, but his Spanish co-hero was enthusiastically playing along like it took no effort at all. He was trapped in Bizarro Land and his head was going giddy from the ludicrousness, like watching a horror movie and yelling at the protagonist not to go that way even though you knew that was exactly where they were going. He was that protagonist right now, he was going straight to where he ought not when he should be running the other way.

The pair ended up sitting near the stage, a band was supposed to play in a little while. Kevin vowed to run away before that. He couldn’t stay out much longer, or his parents might discover he lied about being at a friend’s to study.

Prototype told him about the band, which was the reason the man was in his insignificant town, and Kevin nodded along and kept his mouth busy on his straw. He was just glad that Jimmy hadn’t asked about his shirt, maybe he couldn’t read it in the dim light. The band, Auto Bucks, did sound pretty cool though. He was going to have to look them up on Youtube.

Someone walked on stage and grabbed the microphone. “Welcome, neighbors and friends! The time is ten ‘til ten. Our live-show will begin shortly, Auto Bucks has arrived and will be here in a few minutes.”

“Oh damn,” Kevin said with an exaggerated groan, “is it that late already?”  
“Aw, do you have to go?” Prototype looked honestly disappointed, and Kevin felt bad for tricking him like this, even if it was by accident.  
“Yeah, I have classes in the morning.” Kevin stood up with the other male.  
“You’re in college? What are you studying? Here, I’ll walk you to the gate.”

Oh crud. What could he say that would be believable? “I’m, um, still seeing what fits, but maybe literature.” Comics counted as literature, right?  
“So you’re a big reader, I’m a reader too! I just finished the latest Dresden book.”

Kevin’s brain was grinding to a halt. He needed a wordy book, but his mind was blanking. There were books in his house, why couldn’t he remember a single damn title right now? “I-I haven’t read that one yet, busy with school, you know? A lot of classics…like Shakespeare.” Thank you for pulling through there, brain.

Jimmy nodded. “Yeah, I get you. I haven’t actually read Shakespeare, but I’ve seen some of the movies. Othello, man.”  
“Definitely,” Kevin agreed. He had no idea which play was Othello. Wasn’t that a board game? Oh sweet Jesus, they were at the gate. “Thanks for walking me.”  
“No problem. Hey, uh, I’d really like to see you again.” Prototype pulled out a card which Kevin automatically accepted. “Here’s how to contact me, if, you know, you want to.”

The disguised ultra felt panic clawing at his chest and his heart threatening to beat right through his ribs to hide somewhere far away from this screwed up situation. His legs were numb and he was surprised he wasn’t changing back into goo from the stress.

Kevin held the card up to his mouth to partially hide his expression, he didn’t want Prototype to pick up on his anxiety. “Maybe I will.” He spun on his heel and walked away. Don’t run yet, walk calmly, you’re an adult right now. Grownups don’t run away for no reason.

He was going to have a total meltdown at this rate.

The brunet drank the rest of his soda as if he could swallow down the negative feelings and digest them away. It didn’t work. Kevin decided to actually look at the card, he was curious how adults talked to each other.

Facebook? Who the hell used that site? It was for old people!  
Oh yeah.

Prototype was also on Instagram, Twitter, Discord, WhatsApp, Telegram, and Slack. He’d have to look up those last two. There was no way he was contacting him online. Not ever. He couldn’t keep up this act long term, he barely kept it up for the half-hour they hung out.

Kevin shoved the card in his backpack then hurried home once he was out of sight. Flying was different in this body, like he was cutting through the air instead of plowing through. It was kind of nice.

He hid in the usual shrubbery by his house to return to his natural body. He hated the process. The adult form melted into the thick green sludge, and he couldn’t breathe through it. He ripped his way through the husk before he drowned in his own fluid. So gross.

The leftovers were rolled and folded as best the boy could manage before he stuffed them into a garbage bag that he then hid under the rest of the trash to be picked up.

Fortunately, his parents weren’t any the wiser when he officially arrived home. “Mom, do we have a copy of Othello?”  
“Othello?” came his mother’s surprised reply. She had stopped sewing the sleeve she was fixing on one of dad’s shirts. “We do, but why?”  
“Some of the stuff we were studying kind of got it brought up and now I’m curious.” It was close enough to the truth. And his mother smiled for some reason, so as long as she was happy instead of worrying about it, that was fine. F-I-N-E.  
“I have a book of Shakespeare’s complete collection, I’ll get it for you.”

Oh man, what has he gotten into now?

Go figure that the next time Prime was needed was right after his algebra test. His brain was killing him. He hated irrational numbers.

“Whoa, Prime, you look as dead as me,” Ghoul commented from where he was sitting at the computer console. The undead ultra was in the middle of adjusting one of his legs, his resident worms crawling around his thigh.  
“Prime is doing fine,” Kevin growled then moved away so the rotting man couldn’t get a better look at him.

Between studying and tests, because his sadistic teachers loved doing them all at the same time, he’d been having unwanted and confusingly vague wet dreams. Saying his sleep was interrupted the last few nights would be generous. As a result he was exhausted and his brains were still leaking from his ears.

Hardcase walked in from another part of the ship. “What happened to you, Prime?” the blond hero questioned. “It couldn’t have been a fight, you would have been on the news.”  
“Nothing, get off my back,” Kevin growled again. The older male raised his brows, but he didn’t have a chance to push the matter before Prototype barged in.  
“You guys will not believe who I met at a concert in some tiny town,” the super-suited ultra crowed. Contrary, who was right behind him, interrupted the story he was about to regale.

“I apologize, Prototype, but your conquest will have to wait,” the lady ultra said, as she floated above them in her chair.  
“It wasn’t a conquest,” the man complained before falling quiet to hear out the current mission.

Kevin was thankful for the timely coincidences that kept everyone’s mouths shut. He already knew who Jimmy planned to talk about and he did not want to hear the man’s description of his new body shell. It was bad enough that he made it in the first place, he didn’t want to hear about the flaws from his co-hero.

“We’ve found that the ultra known as Slag is using his ability to force girls into prostitution, with himself as the benefitting pimp.  
“That’s disgusting,” Prime snapped. He felt green just thinking about it. It made him think of the woman in the alley, his stomach twisting in a knot. He hadn’t said yes, she took his silence as one, but he hadn’t consented. His tongue had been paralyzed, and before he knew it she was sucking his dick.

He still had mixed feelings about the incident, he couldn’t imagine how much worse it was when you definitely didn’t want to be part of anything like that.

“It is,” Hardcase agreed. “Sex should always be consensual.”  
“Got that right,” Prototype piped in. Kevin could hear the creak of the alloy that made his special suit from how tight he was fisting his hands.  
“Then there’s no time for hanging around here,” Ghoul said while bringing up several images on the view screen. “Here’s what we know for certain.

“Wait, where’s Topaz?” questioned Hardcase, looking around for the missing Queen of Gwendor. Contrary waved a dismissive hand.  
“She is on a different mission that is more suited to her. This would send her into an unstoppable rage, and we need this ultra alive.”

Contrary and Ghoul explained the details. Kevin wanted to vomit. Slag had a ring going, not only the one establishment. They needed him in one piece to make sure they were able to rescue everybody who was trapped in his sick business. There were kids his age in there! His mind brought up Kelly from school, and he felt his primal energy surge from instant anger.

He was going to enjoy tearing that building apart.

To nobody’s surprise, the mission was on the news almost before their team was finished. How fast reporters could move still shocked Kevin, and it was honestly kind of scary what some normal adults were capable of when they put their minds to it. But all of that was overshadowed by what he had seen inside the innocuous duplex, and Hardcase had apparently kept him from the worst of it.

Kevin knew he was going to have nightmares for weeks. He wasn’t going to be able to keep a meal down any time soon either.

“Kid?” The blond adult rested a concerned hand on an oversized shoulder. “You alright?”

The brunet hadn’t meant to, but he flinched. He shrugged off Hardcase's hand. “Of course Prime is okay, we stopped that monster.”  
“I didn’t ask about Prime,” the man pointed out. The disguised ultra flinched again. “Damn, I’m sorry, kid. I should have kept you out of there.”

Prime glared at his fellow hero. “Don’t belittle me,” he growled. “Prime's strength was needed.” Kevin flew off before anything more could be said. The teen felt his body wobbling—no trembling. He was trembling. Prime wasn’t supposed tremble, he was the strongest ultra hero on the planet.

After Kevin dug his way out of the Prime husk, he threw up.

The news of the sex ring bust was everywhere for days, Kevin couldn’t get away from it. On top of that, his school held an assembly to address the issue. They were given numbers to call for help and told about their body autonomy, and special counselors were brought in for students who needed to talk to somebody. The brunet kept his head down for most of the speech.

There was no way he could talk to the counselors, not when the incident happened while he was Prime. That lady hadn’t meant to molest a kid, she must have assumed that a man like Prime would have been able to tell her to back off. How was she supposed to know that Prime was actually a stupid, ordinary boy named Kevin?

He was relieved when the assembly ended and they were dismissed back to their classes. The cliques had gathered into tight groups to exchange whispers, which left Kevin out. He didn’t have any friends he was that close to, no matter how hard he tried. Even Kelly, the girl he had a crush on, barely acknowledged his existence. She liked Prime, not Kevin.

Maybe he should talk to Hardcase after all…?

Kevin detoured to the bathroom. He felt dirty and he only hoped the school’s water would be enough. (He wasn’t using that nasty soap, it had an overwhelming fake flower scent that made him gag.)

To no one’s surprise the closest bathrooms were all full with desperate bladders, so the brunet trotted off for one closer to his next class on the other side of the building. Fortunately, only one stall was occupied and the sinks were empty. Kevin turned the cold knob to full-blast and held his hands under the spray, thankful for how quickly it was numbing him. He stuck his head under next.

“You okay, Kev?” The brunet jumped at the voice and flung water everywhere. The other boy laughed. “Yeah, you’re alright.”  
“Oh, Omar!” Kevin turned off the water and quickly wiped his face with his sleeve. “Sorry about that.” Omar was in the same math class, except he didn’t suck at it. He was also one of those guys who made him feel kind of weird in that way he wasn’t ready to think about. Omar was half-black and half-Mexican with this great wavy hair and really pretty skin. If Kevin had to describe it, he’d say it was like caramel but toasted, or something. He really sucked at art, okay?

Omar turned the tap at his sink and started washing up. “It’s cool, just thought you might be sick. It was heavy in there,” the taller male commented. Kevin ran a hand through his wet hair.  
“Yeah…heavy is putting it lightly.” It took a moment, but both of them laughed at the unintended pun. “I guess we better get to class soon.”  
“Ugh, do they seriously think anyone’s gonna be able to concentrate after that?”  
“Dunno,” Kevin replied while patting himself with a couple of paper towels, then handed a couple more to Omar to dry his hands. “See you in algebra tomorrow?”  
“Yup, later.”

When school finally let out, Kevin couldn’t run away from the place fast enough. He really wished, for what was probably the gazillionth time, that he could use his Prime powers in his regular body and fly the hell out of there at warp speed. He’d just have to stick to Kevin speed, which wasn’t exactly all that. He should go to soccer club more often, which would probably help.

The brunet felt a little better once he was back in his neighborhood. Here he was far away from oppressive atmospheres and sickening perverts that made him want to punch heads off and throw up until he couldn’t anymore. He shuddered as his brain decided it was a great idea to recall the victims he saw from the sex ring. The young teenager gagged then bit his lip hard to hold back tears. It was hot around his eyes, but crying wouldn’t help.

He dropped his keys twice before he was able to open the door. “I’m home.” It was less of an announcement and more of a croak. His mom was right there to hug him.  
Oh yeah, they had been given permission slips for their parents about the assembly, hadn’t they?

“It’s alright, Kevin.”  
“Mom…” His voice was a squeak and he choked on a hiccup. He dropped his bag to the floor and hugged his mother tight, his hands fisting the back of her shirt as she continued speaking in a low voice like she was afraid he’d shatter.  
“It’s alright, honey, I promise it’s alright.”

Kevin shook and whimpered, but he still didn’t allowed himself to cry.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see my blog, art, and social media links [click here!](https://twitter.com/DawnEastpoint/status/1259773504909606912)


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